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DesDownunder

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Blog Entries posted by DesDownunder

  1. DesDownunder
    Are ratings overrated?
    Do they mean anything.
    I sit here looking at the little blog rating stars and wonder why our resident blog geniuses (genii for those of you who think Latin is your native tongue) only rate somewhere between 3.9 and 4.8. (Come to think of it, a native Latin is something we might like to get our tongues around.)
    I mean why do some people get more votes than others?
    And why does the lowest rating have more voters than the highest?
    Was this an act of retaliation against being highly rated, or simply a popular vote to rate someone who deserved some rating while others are overlooked altogether.
    Surely someone deserves 5 out of 5.
    Why do some blogs have no votes?
    You'd think that if people were going to vote for one blog they would at least vote for them all.
    Where is the equity in that?
    I can't help but wonder what the criteria is for rating someone's blog.
    I'm pretty certain it has nothing to do with sexual prowess.
    (Now that is a word I wondered about as a kid. I thought a prowess was a female prowler.)
    No one has been around to my house to judge my prowess, that I know about anyway. Perhaps I have been prowled without knowing it.
    Now there is a scary thought. Look out your window and see if you can catch site of the dozens of strange looking men lurking in the bushes trying to rate your prowess so they choose how many stars they give your blog. Do they talk to each other? Do they hold town meetings to discuss your blog ratings? Is there an international conspiracy of blog raters?
    It is always possible of course that people just accidentally hit the wrong number of stars when they rated a blog. It's easy to do. Fortunately all you have to do is rate the blog again with the correct number of 5 stars. The system allows you to change your rating, especially if it was too low last time you rated. (Hint hint.)
    I am perplexed about how readers decide on the number of stars they think a blog should get. Is it comparative? What if the last blog rated is better than the blog you rated at 5 earlier? Do you go around and demote your previous ratings? That isn't nice.
    Then of course I think a blog rating can be in recognition of an outstanding revelation of insight into human thought.
    Deep and meaningful clich?s on the state of our individual thoughts can only make the readers' minds bloggle.
    We blog, therefore we live. Avoid the rush rate our blogs now!
    Subliminal message => 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5,
    Even better, start your own blog.
  2. DesDownunder
    The following is inspired by Camy and the replies in his blog entry "Rowing not rowing."
    Quote Kapitano (from Camy's blog):
    I think the expectation of discord in a relationship is one of the major causes of those tensions.
    Having an idea of what concerns you about the habits of a someone you like, should most likely be weighed against your own needs to control the other person.
    If at least one of the two people in a relationship hasn't got over the TV sitcom idea of controlling the other person then arguments are bound to occur.
    The idea of creating a perfect partner after having failed to find Mr (or Ms) Right, is never really going to lead to a harmonious relationship.
    Helping someone to be who they want to be, even allowing them to just be themselves, is a tricky business.
    Making the someone into whom you want them to be is fraught with impending action of disaster.
    So how can we avoid arguments, resentment, disappointments, plots to kill each other etc. in our relationships?
    The answers are as numerous as there are couples trying to find the 'Happy Ever After.'
    Too many of us worry about stupid things like squeezing the toothpaste from the middle or the end of the tube . Whilst in confrontation mode, neither party is going to find the obvious solution of each person having their own tube of toothpaste. This principle can go a long way to solving the minor stupid annoyances of no real consequence.
    Finally however there comes a time to realise that you don't care about the other guy's imperfections; indeed you may find they are what makes him special to you.
    The Hippie Guide to Love says, you should set up rows of suitors to have as wide a range of lovers as is possible.
    It also says,
    If you find someone to love, set them free, if they come back to you, they love you too.
    What this means is, that if you love someone, you seek to liberate them; set them free from what ever confines them, and never attempt to imprison them in your own ideal world. Indeed such a prison has two inmates; both of you. If either of you attempt to be the prison guard as well, resentment will follow. Both must escape this prison and decide to be together, each of their own free will.
    When both partners know that they are free to be themselves, arguments tend to be discussions on what is best for either or both of them, rather than just being selfish assertion of a rule or concept of what is 'right.' This is not a compromise however. It is a somewhat, simple, (sometimes difficult) sacrifice made, for the one you love.
    But before you can love another, you must learn to love yourself. Self-loathing is not really a satisfactory basis for loving another person.
    Once you have come to love yourself, you are then able to sacrifice your self-love, by offering love to another.
    It is here that the core of argument ferments, if for any one moment, the offering or substantiation of love is perceived as rejected or ignored.
    It is necessary to trust that love exists at these moments, that love has matured beyond selfish ambition, that owning each other is not a worthy relationship. That the arguments, the ambitions, the expectations even, are sacrificed because loving each other freely is our unconditional vow.
    Then we may become aware we are wondrously, humans, being in love.
    Sometimes we may express our affection by telling the object of our love to "Go Fuck yourself!"

  3. DesDownunder
    So here am I, aging by the second and running around trying to find some semblance of reason to the bizarre conditions of warranties.
    My new all singing, all dancing, all annoying mobile phone has stopped working after 6 months. The screen is plain white and the battery won't accept a recharge. I rang the Telephone company, -on the land line phone, as the mobile was busted. Did you really think I rang on the mobile which is broken? Of course you didn't. A voice answered,
    "In a few words," she says," Please tell me the purpose of your call."
    "WTF is this? oh, okay, I get it...My phone is busted."
    "I'm sorry," apologizes the voice, "I didn't understand you. In a few words please state the nature of your call."
    "My mobile phone isn't working."
    "Your phone isn't working. Does that sound right to you?"
    "yes!" I want to add an expletive or two but refrain.
    "Please tell me the nature of your problem."
    "The friggin phone ain't able to take a friggin charge."
    "Your account has been over-charged? Is that correct."
    "No!"
    Silence.
    "Please press the hash key."
    I press every key several times.
    "Okay, I am not able to ascertain your query, please hold while I connect to a service consultant."
    Musical interlude.
    "Your call is important to us and has been placed in a queue." announces a recorded voice. "We are experiencing an unusually large number of calls at the moment. You may wait in the queue or press 2 and leave your phone number and we will phone you back tomorrow."
    "Yeah right. Do I look stupid? I'll wait."
    Musical interlude, interrupted by a commercial trying to sell me a new phone. I ignore the offer to go to 'sales' by pressing 3.
    "Hello my name is Sam, how may I make you day perfect?"
    I burst out laughing.
    "Hello, hello...Can I help you?"
    "Yes you can. Firstly tell the boss to get a new script writer, secondly shoot the auto-voice system, it doesn't work."
    "Yes, we have a lot of trouble with that," says Sam.
    "And thirdly," I tell him, "I want my mobile phone repaired. It is under warranty."
    Certainly Sir, when was the phone purchased, what is the telephone number, which country are you in, and what seems to be wrong with the unit?"
    "The unit? Oh, you mean the phone."
    I supply the details he requires as quickly as I can, the sun is setting.
    After several minutes of music and commercials, Sam (he sounds really cute) returns and tells me that I have a a valid claim and he will escalate my case to the senior technician who will send me details on how to get my phone repaired. In the meantime if I want to use the phone service I should buy a cheap phone and put the SIM card into it. I thank Sam and before I can invite him home for a midnight tryst, he bids me farewell and hangs-up.
    The next day I buy the suggested cheap ? $60 phone, transfer the SIM card and voila, I am connected again to the mobile phone world.
    Four days later, the Senior Technician sends me a return for service form, which I must sign. In it, is a clause that says I agree to being charged a minimum of $100 if they fix the phone because it is not broken under warranty. No. I check with a lawyer friend. Don't sign it he advises.
    "I have no intention of signing it," I tell him.
    "Wait until Monday and take it direct to the manufacturer's service department." So I will do that.
    In the meantime, the laser printer is reporting a paper jam, but there is no paper jammed in it. It's under warranty. I check their website which is like trying to find your way around a brothel in the dark. You can tell someone is being badly screwed, you're just hoping it isn't you.
    Finally I find a local phone number to call.
    "If your enquiry is to do with a scanner please press 2,
    If your enquiry is to do with a printer please press 3,
    If your enquiry is to do with something else we make, please press another number..."
    And so on...Finally a girl informs me she will email me with the time for the printer to be serviced...
    The printer serviceman is coming Monday. They will charge me $104.50 per hour from the time he leaves their premises until the time he returns if he finds the paper jam is due to a paper jam, as that is not covered under the warranty.
    Where is the Consumer Affairs phone number. Ah there it is.
    "Hello, you have rung consumer affairs. If your enquiry is about..."
    I hang up.

  4. DesDownunder
    A Heinz Mayo food advertisement has been criticised in the UK for a gay kiss between two men. This has caused a reaction from all quarters of society. I though an Australian 'take' on this might be illuminating even if it is a bit satirical.
    Just for interest, it is true that an Australian TV series called 'Number 96' showed Aussie TV's first gay kiss in 1974.
    Because of that, Australia has become a country of homosexuals ever since. We constantly arrest people from the general community and put them in homosexual training centres called jails.
    Heterosexual people often confuse gay sex with their own revulsion of natural bodily functions. This has caused many of them to lead very unimaginative sex lives, much to their partners' dismay. Gay people have organised street parades called 'Gay Mardi Gras' and 'Gay Festivals' in nearly every Australian city. Wild parties are being hosted everywhere by gay people to try to show heterosexual couples that sex can be fun.
    However we have to be careful of what the rest of the world thinks of us, so we pretend to only 'tolerate' gay people, by making it look like we don't approve of gay marriage. The truth of the matter is of course we fight for, and encourage the rights of homosexuals, everywhere wherever possible, especially on the beaches, on the streets and between the sheets. We will never surrender, (except for our virginity.)
    Gay people are doing their best to have babies, so far without much luck.
    Fortunately there are sufficient heterosexual people remaining in Australia who are having babies, a percentage of whom will become gay if they aren't already.
    The Australian Governments have secretly assisted the GLBT community to deliver assistance to heterosexual parents who are bewildered by their lack of gay offspring, in helping them to understand that love between people of the opposite sex is as acceptable as love between same sex partners.
    Proper nutrition is very important for the newly born baby and it has been suggested that Heinz baby food is an excellent source of the gay gene.

  5. DesDownunder
    It's been a month since I had the time to write a note in here.
    My new duties as admin for the Forums have absorbed some of my free time, but mostly I have been down with a bug.
    I would give a description of its symptoms but I don't want to put you off your next meal.
    I went to the doctor who assured me I wasn't dying yet. "When?" I asked.
    "How the hell should I know?" he replied.
    "Well you are the doctor."
    "I am as old as you," he told me, "I don't know anymore than you do."
    "That's scary," I mumbled.
    "What?" he asked.
    "That's what I want to know. What are we going to do about this bug?"
    "I think you are almost over it. Go get some sleep."
    "Sleep? I've been asleep for two days now."
    "Sleep is good." He said as seemed to waver in his chair.
    "Are you okay Doctor? You look a little green."
    "I don't feel well, 'he said.
    "Where?" I asked.
    "Where, what?"
    "Where don't you feel well?"
    "All over. I feel like I am going to barf."
    "Barf! Is that a medical term?"
    "It's as good as any."
    "Should I get a bucket or a bowl?"
    "What for?"
    For a doctor he sure can be dumb.
    "So you can barf into it."
    "I'm not going to barf. I just need to sleep. I think I will take the rest of the day off."
    "What about the patients?"
    "You were the last one," he announced as if the Apocalypse had just commenced.
    "Lock the door on your way out will you? I gotta get some sleep. I'm going home to bed."
    I watched somewhat astounded as he got up and left the room.
    I quickly followed, turning out the lights and pulled the door to lock behind me.
    The doctor was getting into his car. He turned and looked at me.
    "You should get some sleep yourself." He started his car.
    "Do you mean we should sleep together, at last?" I called out to him.
    "Don't make me barf," he yelled as he backed out of the driveway.
    "Thanks," I called back to him, "that hasn't helped me feel good at all!"
    He beeped his car horn and drove away.
    Oh well he didn't charge for the insult.

  6. DesDownunder
    At my advanced years, even though I don't feel that old on Mondays and Fridays, I am wondering what I can do to help the world come to terms with gay marriage.
    So I thought I could start a gay marriage counselling service for straight people.
    Make that straight men. Someone else can help the women. I haven't a great deal of hands on experience with lesbian sex.
    Anyway back to my get rich quick scheme. I think I should make a charge for the service, afterall I have been subjected to some pretty nasty homophobic taunts due to straight guys not understanding about the gay lifestyle.
    I read in the press that straight guys have said they do not understand gay marriage or why gay guys would want to get married.
    Sooo I thought to help out, for a small fee, I would be willing to show straight guys why gays get married.
    I could counsel them on many of the benefits of two guys being married.
    You know, the fact that guys, want it when guys want it. No more "Not tonight dear, I have a headache."
    Instead they would learn about gay guys aching from getting head all night long.
    I could demonstrate for my clients how only a gay guy knows how to...and to....as well as cook breakfast.
    I think I could do a really good deal for colleges on gay semenars. ( no I didn't misspell that.)
    Of course private counselling would cost more depending on the depth of information the client wanted to go in for.
    I wonder if I could get a James Marsden look a like to help with the demonstrations.
    Mature age excellence in all matters of gay marriage. Buy one get two. (must be used on the same night).
    But that's not all. Order your special one on one gay marriage counselling for straight guys now, and get a free set of matching condoms with your favourite guys initials embroidered on them.
    Don't be the last one in your street to know about the joys of gay marriage.
    I'm exhausted. I need to lay down on the bed...
    Damn, the sheets need changing again.
  7. DesDownunder
    So how do you tell if a guy is straight?
    Well there are certain tell-tale signs if you know what to look for.
    The most obvious one is to watch a guy when a girl walks by.
    If his tongue falls out of his mouth and he does an impersonation of a slobbering, St Bernard dog, with drool reaching down and catching on his shirt, then you can possibly be certain he is interested in at least one woman from a hormonal point of view.
    What if there are no woman around though? Well, there are certain little things that give straight guys away.
    Watch the way they hold the newspaper or magazine in the bus or train. They don't hold the magazine with finesse.
    The grip the pages between their thumb and index finger instead of delicately holding the edge of the page with their finger tips.
    When they sit down they will lean forward and then drop into the seat with such force that the back of the chair or seat bends out of shape.
    Speaking of shape, a straight guy will generally have no sense of his butt. He doesnt wiggle it as he walks and he drags his feet in a kind of shuffle that has parents yelling at him to lift his feet.
    He also slouches, giving you an early view of what age will do to his abdomen.
    Getting back to walking; it is really more a lurch to the left and then to the right. This can be rather charming in an apish sort of way as it indicates a gentle soul who hasn't yet learned to aggressively plod one foot after another in attempt to intimidate the hell out of all the other straight guys.
    One of the dead give aways of a straight guy is the way they incline their heads when talking. You can see this quite clearly in those men who feel they know everything (another straight trait). Also watch them driving their cars. They hold their arms out of the window at stop lights with the palm of their hand down. Their other arm is usually rubbing their nuts. When they drive off the external arm changes position to grab onto the roof of the car to make sure it doesnt lift off.
    Straight guys in cars rarely see cute guys on motorbikes and often just plough straight into them. This is different to gay guys who gently nudge the bike with their cars to let the bike rider know he is attractive in those leathers.
    Speaking of leather; then there is the belt. Straight guys wear belts; thin leather belts in trousers that have no hope of falling down. Totally useless belts.
    Wide leather belts with crazy designs and buckles are okay because they adorn the entrance to a horny Valhalla, but generally speaking most gay guys don't wear belts as they just delay the entry of the gods.
    Watch their eyes. If the iris of the eye widens as they look at you, just hand them your personal card with your cell phone number on it, or simply ask if they would like to see your new sheets on your bed. That one is not straight.
    Then again there are guys who do all these things because they think it is acting straight that will land them a gay guy for the night or weekend or even a lifetime.
    How bent is that?
  8. DesDownunder
    "Hold still," said the doctor, "It is just a little prick."
    "Not from what I have heard," I told him.
    "Oh, and what have you heard?" he said with menace in his eyes as he waved the needle in his hand.
    I thought better than to antagonize the poor man, after all he was nearly as old as me.
    "Have you had your flu injection?" I asked.
    "Yes I have," he responded, "so I know how small a prick it is. But this isn't your flu injection. You had that last month. This one is your pneumonia shot and is even smaller."
    And with that he jabbed the needle into my arm, squeezed the plunger and muttered the standard physician's "ah hmm."
    "What does that mean?" I asked, "Did the needle break off in my arm? Did you miss the mark? Is it the wrong injection? How long have I got left?"
    "Not long at all if you don't be quiet," he grinned, his teeth snarling as he inspected the remains of the syringe.
    "Why can't these things come in a pill or a capsule? I'm very good at swallowing," I said.
    The good doctor rolled his eyes and then looked at me with mischief in both eyes. "You mean you can shut your mouth long enough to swallow?"
    "Oh I can swallow with my mouth open." I said.
    He looked vanquished as he replied, " I should have seen that one coming."
    "I usually can," I offered helpfully.
    "I'm sure you can."
    He placed a band-aid on my arm.
    "There that will probably be sore tomorrow, but at least you have some protection now."
    "So I don't need to wear a condom anymore?" I asked.
    "Only if you know the prick hasn't been infected," he roared with laughter as he opened the door to show me out.
    "Pay the nurse on the way out," he said still chuckling.
    "Oh," I said, "That would be for the money shot, then?"
    "Your scaring the other patients," he said as he shut the door.
    "All fixed?" asked the nurse as I paid her.
    "All depends what you mean by "fixed," I said as I left.
    Going to the doctors is so much fun.
  9. DesDownunder
    As most people know I am an insomniac except when I am asleep.
    It is not unusual for me to slip into bed at 4, 5 or even 6 am.
    Snuggled safely in bed alngside the boyfriend, I eventually drift into the land of dream boys.
    So it seems, does the boyfriend!
    I went to bed at 3 am this morning and was laying there waiting to fall to sleep, when suddenly the b/f stopped snoring and began making wild noises. His arms and legs flurried in all directions. The bed covers fell to the floor in fright.
    His elbow landed in the middle of my chest as his hand hit me in the mouth.
    He sat up in bed. I felt my chest and then my mouth.
    "Are you awake," I asked with a calmness that surprised me as I checked with my tongue to see if I had lost any more teeth.
    "I was dreaming," he said, "I dreamt I was chasing Tom Cruise."
    Now this came as a shock. I made no reply. He didn't usually go for Tom's type. Silence replaced our dreams.
    Finally I spoke into the darkness, "Did you at least think I was Tom?"
    "No, no." He replied, "I dreamt he had broken into our house and was robbing us. So I chased him out of the house."
    "My hero," I said. He giggled that same cute giggle he has been using ever since I met him.
    "What the hell could we have that Tom doesn't have better?" I asked, "Why would he want to steal from us?"
    "I don't know, I just chased him out the door." said the b/f. "It was only a dream."
    "I'll move out if you want him to move in," I said, sadly.
    "Don't be #f%&(* stupid. I'm going back to sleep," he said as he rolled over.
    I am wide awake.

  10. DesDownunder
    69 is not my age , I ain't that old ...yet!
    Well here we are at the 69th blog entry. 69 I guess it will have to be a double entry ey?
    ?ʎǝ ʎɹʇuǝ ǝlqnop ɐ ǝq oʇ ǝʌɐɥ llıʍ ʇı ssǝnƃ I 96 ˙ʎɹʇuǝ ƃolq ɥʇ96 ǝɥʇ ʇɐ ǝɹɐ ǝʍ ǝɹǝɥ llǝʍ
    I can hardly believe how cold it has become. A month ago I was sitting here naked in oppressive heat and now my extremities are frozen. Oh and that is with clothes in case you are wondering. which I hope you were and no doubt weren't.
    Soixante-neuf Warning XXX.
    Of course if you are 69-ing you can get hot for a while. On the other-hand, which takes some working out when you 69, whose hand is that? Am I upside down or am I downunder? If I wasn't in Australia would I be downunder or up-over. 69-ing is so confusing. I don't know what has come over me, oh wait a minute, yes I do.
    And then you are cold again, and wet. I wonder if the hot water is working I could have a spa. Can you 69 in the spa bath? Will the bubbles get up my nose? Will the jets of water bubble up and drown me in a sea of foaming water? Should I get a snorkel? You have one? Built in you say? Kewl!
    Wanna play submarines? Torpedoes away. Firing number 2, loading number 3.
    Will I see men in the reflection on the bathroom mirrors, or will they be fogged up?
    Something will get fogged up I suppose. I should get a fog-horn. What flavour soap is this? It is quite tasty.
    Now for the warm fluffy towels and the cosy wrap of the muscly arms. The breath of love and the damn alarm, just as I was about to dream of
    You
    ǝɯ
    sigh,
  12. DesDownunder
    Writer?s Blog
    By DesDownUnder ?2008
    Blog?s can be really great fun to write.
    No pressure, no meaning to requite,
    No Pulitzer Prize to win
    Just meandering words,
    Fooling around in sin,
    Looking for pity, or worse.
    So why can?t I find a way to deflect
    The horrors of my day in some subject
    With electronic pen
    To write and please, of course,
    All those who come to spend,
    Some time, looking at my curse.
    Alone I sit watching an empty screen,
    Patiently waiting for those words unseen,
    Yet this cannot be so,
    Some word not to be first,
    From all those that I know,
    Not to start, a new verse.
    Lurking in the back of my blanked out mind,
    Are all those needed words I cannot find,
    As they hide and huddle
    ?Fraid of my writer?s blog
    I realise my trouble
    Is really writer?s block.
  13. DesDownunder
    Some time ago I was at the local office warehouse where they had these you-beaut $400 office chairs on sale for $99.
    So of course always willing to save money by spending it, I bought one.
    It was terrific. It had a gas lift that worked. My old chair didn't do that. The new one could up and down at the touch of a lever. Kewl! If I lent back it reclined till I was almost horizontal. I was having fantasies of sex in a chair.
    Like all new love affairs, I then started to discover its failings. The biggest one was that the seat was designed for a posterior three times the size of mine. It was truly an office manager's chair. I could cuddle two secretaries in this chair, it was so huge.
    Also over time I started to develop a bad back. The little disc thingies in my spine would jump out of position and twang, I was in agony until I clicked it back. The new chair was an object of abject disappointment. It had one saving grace; it's lift mechanism worked so I could sit at the right height to the desk.
    Well the recent hot weather took its toll on my poor spine and I thought I had reached the end of days. My legs had seized up and I had an agonising pain from my rear end down to my calf muscles, (such as they are. Don't get excited.)
    Then the weather dropped 20 degrees. And my spine snapped frozen with the disc in the wrong position.
    The b/f was asking if he should ring the doctor or the undertaker. I'm not certain which he preferred.
    The doctor was no help. He gave me a flu injection which made my arm hurt.
    I searched the Internet for treatment of the symptoms. Eureka! Chiropractor! Of course why didn't I think of that.
    The chiropractor listened to my tale of woe about my tail.
    Snap, crack and a pop, and all was well. What a great man he is.
    He said I wasn't sitting up straight.
    So I told him I couldn't do that because I was gay. He rolled his eyes.
    He then explained that the trouble was with my chair not supporting my lumbar region properly.
    Aha -so down to the used car parts I go and buy a secondhand sports-car bucket seat.
    I found one that fitted me perfectly. It had a sticker on it that read "Crash Proof."
    Back home after drilling and tapping holes and threads, I fitted this futuristic flight seat to the base of the chair.
    I sat down and adjusted the height and the back until I was cocooned in the comforting protection of this wonderful seat.
    "Houston? Houston, I say, I am ready for take off."
    "And there is DesDownUnder form Oz lined up for the start of the Indianapolis 500. Vroom, vroom."
    "Warp nine, Mr Spock."
    Oh Wow, this great.
    What's more I won't be killed the next time Windows crashes.
    I wonder if I should fit an air bag to the monitor?

  14. DesDownunder

    65. Hot Aussies

    By DesDownunder,

    It's official folks, Adelaide in the state of South Australia has endured its longest heat wave on record.
    Generally a heat wave is considered to be the number of days with the temperature reaching or exceeding 100 ?F or 37.8 ?C.
    Well, we just had 15 days over 35 ?C and believe me that was hot enough. I had to drive 22 Kilometres each day in a car with no air conditioning. I had a wet towel around my neck to survive. Yesterday I broke out into heat rash, but it has subsided with today's cooler weather.
    What was the world's longest heat wave?
    The record for the world's longest heat wave goes to Marble Bar in Western Australia. From October 31, 1923 to April 07, 1924 the temperature broke the 100 ?F mark setting the heat wave record at a scorching 160 days.
    Where is the hottest place on Earth? Temperature records from weather stations give that distinction to El Azizia, Libya, which hit a sweltering 57.8 degrees Celsius (136 F) on September 13, 1922, but there have likely been hotter locations beyond the scattered network of weather stations. (such as my bedroom in 1963 -1971.)
    Now if any of you kewl dudes want to come down here and help cool me down, please understand if I don't want to cuddle.

  15. DesDownunder
    On top of the other disasters that 2007 seemed to bring (fence falling over, cars that thought we had a pension plan, water heater that blew up and a few other major catastrophes like the computer needing replacement etc, etc, etc. I am delighted to inform you all that it hasn't finished yet!
    We are in our ninth day of 35 C heat, that's almost 100 F, with no cool change in sight till the 20th March at the earliest. Yes its a record heatwave for March in Adelaide.
    So go on, guess what broke down this time?
    Yes, you got it the -$%*)*&&^$##@% air conditioner!
    At least the computer seems okay working in the 40 C degree heat. CPU reads 55 C.
    So please excuse me if I seem a little short tempered or heated, as I am HOT and not in a good way.
    Okay, okay, was I ever that hot? Yes I was, thank you very much.
    So I am hot bothered, bewitched and bewildered as to why the air conditioner broke down. It just sits their and groans intermittently. They don't make them like they used to. It's only 35 years old. I am nearly twice its age and I don't groan do I?
    No need to answer that!

  16. DesDownunder
    Here is where the quote came from:
    Sanson: ...................Why are you poets so fascinated with madmen?
    Cervantes:................We have much in common.
    Sanson: ...................You both turn your backs on life?
    Cervantes.................We both select from life!
    Sanson:...................A man has to come to terms with life as it is.
    Cervantes:

    Life as it is.
    I have lived for over forty years, and I've seen...
    life as it is.
    Pain...
    misery...
    cruelty beyond belief.
    I've heard all the voices of God's noblest creature.
    Moans from bundles of filth in the street.
    I've been a soldier and a slave.
    I've seen my comrades fall in battle...
    or die more slowly under the lash in Africa.
    I've held them at the last moment.
    These were men who saw life as it is.
    Yet they died despairing.
    No glory, no brave last words.
    Only their eyes, filled with confusion...
    questioning why.
    I do not think they were asking why they were dying...
    but why they had ever lived.
    When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies?
    Perhaps to be too practical is madness.
    To surrender dreams, this may be madness.
    To seek treasure where there is only trash...
    too much sanity may be madness!
    And maddest of all...
    to see life as it is and not as it should be! from, Man of la Mancha. Film script.
    http://www.script-o-rama.com/movie_scripts...transcript.html
    For Man of la Mancha history of the playmusical see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Man_of_La_Mancha
    So you might think because the exact quote I used is not in these words, that I cheated. Yet I am not happy to claim the quote as my own, the sentiment is just so obviously what is behind the above speech.
    Thus I wrote:
    Madness is to believe that only reality is sanity
    Furthermore;
    To make it your quest, for life to be as it should be, is not an impossible dream.
    So I default because of my little subterfuge and you are all winners, everyone of you.
    But I think Rad Steven saw through it first.
    Your prize is waiting for you at my hosted page at Codey?s World, the next chapters of the Doors of Love.
    Don?t worry I won?t be sleeping alone.
  18. DesDownunder
    After ten minutes of writing and weeks of adjusting the words, I am pleased to
    announce that my new series, Doors of Love, based on my blog entries of the
    same title, has begun at my hosted pages at Codey's World.
    Chapters 1 and 2 are pretty much as they were posted in my blog.
    This week chapter 3 is up and is little more than a short bridging scene to the
    new story which begins properly (or improperly if you like) in chapter 4 due next week.
    There are 7 chapters in all and it is completed waiting only for my editor Blue to find time to work his magic.
    Please share your reactions with me. I love to know how you liked/loathed it.
    Open the Doors of Love
  19. DesDownunder
    Recently I fell into that awful trap of missing out on a daily shower.
    This sometimes happens to techie types.
    A quick sponge-over was all I could manage.
    The next day as I prepared for my shower, I looked aghast at my pubic hair.
    It had lost its curl.
    The short and curlies were long and laying quite flat.
    Perplexed and not a little unconcerned, I proceeded with the bathing ritual, showering with as much gay abandon as I could.
    After my shower I looked once more at the offending hairs only to notice that the curls had returned in all their glory.
    Once more I could be known as afro groin, or should that be aphro groin?
    Still I cannot help but wonder if I gave up showering, would the rest of me become straight too?
    Don't tell Fred Phelps
    He might picket the showers.

  20. DesDownunder

    58 Hello?

    By DesDownunder,

    So I have three days where I have to get up early...at 9am
    Okay so for most people that is not all that early, but after a lifetime of going to bed as the sun comes,
    9 am for me, is like the middle of everyone else's night.
    I am tired, very tired. It is 3.35 pm and I have just got home. I look longingly at the reason for existence
    but decide to leave the computer off and go to bed for some sleep.
    4.14 pm. Ring-ring, ring-ring. ring-ring, ring-ring, ring-ring, I pick up the phone,
    Me: "Yo!"
    silence...
    Oh No...
    Just as I am about to hang-up a voice says: How are you doing?
    Me: How am I doing, what?
    Voice: pardon?
    Me: You asked me how I am doing, but you didn't say what it was you wanted to know I was doing.
    Voice: Doing?
    Me: You must say what the doing is. I can't guess. Do you want to know how well I am doing the gardening?
    Or do you want to know how well I do the dishes?
    Or how well I do the naughty. I can tell you, I don't get too many complaints.
    I don't do the garden, by the way.
    Voice: I being polite.
    Me: Hello Polite, I being Des.
    Polite: No I am Shiram, being polite:
    Me: How nice. I am Des being annoyed.
    Polite now being Shiram: I knowing English.
    Me: Who told you that?
    Shiram: I did learning at school. I speak English. How are you doing?
    Me: How am I doing, what?
    Shiram: I don't understand.
    Me: Admitting you don't understand is the first step to wisdom.
    Shiram: This is not going right.
    Me: No I suppose it isn't.
    Shiram: I am having speech to say.
    Me: Why is someone getting married?
    Shiram: I am not married.
    Me: you're not? Then who is getting married?
    Shiram: Why is anyone marrying?
    Me: That's what I say too. See I told you, you would get wisdom, all from just admitting you don't understand.
    Shiram; Don't understand what?
    Me: That I don't like being woken up by phone calls.
    Shiram: Are you sleeping?
    Me: Not at the moment.
    Shiram: I am confused.
    Me: I am tired.
    Shiram: I am tiring too.
    Me: We should go to bed.
    CLICK!
    Okay so we never got past the "Yo"
    but I can fantasize a little can't I?

  21. DesDownunder
    Firstly I offer my condolences, respect and tears for the loss of Heath Ledger, a great bloke and a fine actor.
    That anyone, especially a man professing to be a man of God, should ridicule a man at his death for not fitting in with their concepts of religion is to me down right abhorrent. To claim knowledge that the dead person is now in Hell is irrational, illogical and deplorable.
    Who would do such a thing? Fred Phelps, who else? See the link that TR has provided here
    Fred claims to have knowledge that Heath is in Hell, complete with flames.
    During all this, Phelps also claims that Australia is a land of sodomites.
    Then we have Trab's illuminating report here that Aussies are being warned to steer clear of Canada because,
    "An Australian government website lists Canada as a country where travellers need to be cautious about terrorism, dangerous winter driving and cold weather conditions."
    Obviously the government thought because it is too cold for us practise sodomy in such weather or while driving the car, that it would be terrible for us.
    On behalf of the Australian people I would make it known that we do not concur with any ideas that Canada is so dangerous as to warrant such a statement.
    Some Australia Day this is turning out to be.
    oh yes I suppose I should tell you that January 26th is our National (booze up) Australia Day.
    Similar to our US friend's July the 4th, except we drink more than they do.
    In the light of Fred Phelps' sodomite claims, I am wondering if he got it mixed up with our national food, Vegemite?
    Just what does Fred put on his sandwiches? Inquiring minds want to know in case his mentality is diet related.
    Fred also has a go at "Faggy England" but I will leave that for Camy to comment on.
    I am asking our Government agencies that they quickly offer apologies to our Canadian brothers and sisters for any insinuation that they are are mad terrorists hellbent on killing the touring sodomites from Australia.
    I will tell them we should offer package holidays to Canadians who would like to see our national sodomy games, perhaps even take part in them.
    You will know when you have met an Australian because we always greet people by saying "G'Day"
    short for "Gay Day". Some people have thought G'day was short for a welcoming, "Good Day"
    But no. It is actually short for Gay Day, and we always say it before we sodomise anyone.
    G'day, mate?
    Which also explains why we call each other "mate."
    Australia, land of the sodomites. I guess that explains our low birth rate.
    Australia, Land of the Sodomites, we live in hope, I wish.
    It's a wonder Fred didn't claim that Australia sucks.
    And we are very good at that too.
  22. DesDownunder
    Cole has provided some advice on making contact with the boys:
    I imagine the following might be the outcome of taking Cole's advice.
    "Oh Hi. I was just walking past your garage door when I thought you might be able to help me with my phone. I don't seem to be able to get the camera thingy working on the phone and wondered if you nice muscly boys have a clue?"
    "Ahh, yeah, sure Pops, we can help," said the twinkier one of the two.
    In less time than it takes to say "What nice thighs you have," I found myself the proud owner of the only mobile phone in existence to have a footprint on its surface from where it was kick-boxed into terminating its services. The blood will probably wash off, I am sure, but there are several broken thingamy-jigs and holes in the plastic case.
    Still the boys did serve nice cake and tea, when we got back from the emergency room where the Kung-Fu expert had to have several small transistors and printed circuit board pieces removed from his foot under a local anesthetic. His friend held his hand throughout the procedure. The surgeon wasn't going to let him, until they showed him the medical power of attorney they held in each others names.
    I did think they went a bit far when they kissed and shouted "Hooray" every time the surgeon removed another bit of plastic from his foot.
    I tried to pay for the emergency room but they said they were completely covered medically as a condition that their parents had insisted on when they told them they were going to live together.
    It seems that their parents were hoping for grandchildren and didn't want them to have any unexpected hospital bills.
    Feeling somewhat defeated and quite phoneless, I decided to drive home. The boys with their arms around each other waved me farewell, while the sunset over suburbia in a blaze of innocence not seen since before apple trees grew in Eden.
    Unlike the previous entry this one is based loosely on fictitious thoughts inspired by Cole's above advice.

  23. DesDownunder
    It's Friday afternoon and I am picking up an old friend's ancient computer for which he no longer has any use. I will give it to a deserving family I know.
    At least I would if he was home. He is late. Twenty minutes late. So I am sitting in my car waiting, when I hear a door slam in the house next door.
    "Sorreeee," says a voice that I just know does not belong to an Australian outback construction worker.
    Sure enough, a young man in his early twenties appears wearing a shirt and shorts designed to show his decorator muscles he must have got for Christmas. At least I have something to look at whilst I wait.
    I immediately think that his name is probably Twinky-boy as he walks gently around the car parked in the driveway. As he turns around to get in the car I decide his name is probably Hot-bot.
    Anyway he started the car, one of those nice little 4-cylinder cars from the Far-east. Then he gets out of the car and walks up to the garage door which is one of those full-width roll-up type doors in a lovely shade of suburban beige. I watch Hot-bot as he reaches up to a ledge and takes down what is obviously a remote control.
    Now I have never had the money for such luxuries, but I am pretty sure this must be a remote control for the roll-up door. It wouldn't make a lot of sense for it to be the TV remote unless the door was particularly slow in rolling up. Then again it didn't make a lot of sense to keep the garage door remote outside where anyone could find it.
    Our hero gets back into the car and waves the remote at the door, which sure enough slowly, but not that slowly, begins its ascent into the garage ceiling space.
    When the door is half-way up, I watch as the car slowly moves forward towards the door. The bonnet of the car goes under the rising door and just when you would expect the young man to exert those delightful thigh muscles and apply the brakes, the car sped up and rammed the upper half of the now bent and stationary garage door.
    It was about now that I realised I was privileged to watch an actual urban legend occurring before my very eyes. Would I see a Darwin Award?
    The young man sat in the car with his mouth open. He seemed genuinely surprised that the door had been by hit the car. Possibly he was wondering why the car had been hit by the door.
    Slowly he backed the car away from the door, but the now hanging bottom bar of the door was caught on the front of the car just where the windscreen ends and the bonnet starts. He continued backing the car away and somehow managed to pull the roller door so it was bent in the other direction.
    The door tried to return to its previous instruction to roll up, but gave up after a another few feet, looking quite the worse for the ordeal. It looked a little like the Sydney Opera House sails would have looked if they had been made from roofing iron.
    The car bonnet seemed okay.
    Again I heard the door from inside the house slam and there suddenly appeared another young man of the tender twenty-something years wearing torn off jeans and a tight fitting T-shirt adorning his own decorator muscles. They must have bought a matching set, although this one might have paid extra for the super thighs version with golden tan.
    Twinky got out of the car and rushed up to the damaged door, touching it, caressing it as one would an injured animal. "Oh No!" he exclaimed.
    "How did that happen?" asked the other set of muscles.
    "I don't know. One moment the door was going up the next minute the door stopped as I was driving towards it," and with that he burst into tears.
    The other young man tenderly put his arms around his friend and patted his shoulder, "It's okay love, we will sort it out, come on."
    They reached up and grabbed the bottom of the bent door that was now about five feet off the ground.
    I watched as they twisted and pulled at the door. I tossed up whether I should try to help, but decided that as neither of them knew I was there and that I had forgotten to put on my own set of muscles before I left home, it was probably best for me to remain hidden in my car. Less embarrassing for us all, I thought.
    Then they gave me an insight in to their bedroom antics as they topped their previous contortions by grabbing the bottom of the door lifting their knees towards their chests and swung furiously like a pair of delicate chimpanzees.
    I placed my hands over my mouth and eyes, lest I should betray my presence with an audible sound from deep in my throat. Looking between my fingers I saw the miracle of the door slowly start to descend till it nearly reached the ground.
    "Stand back," said the torn off jeans clad super thighed one of the two, and with that he performed a flying Kung Fu leap that meant he probably worked as a stunt man. His foot landed in the middle of the dent in the door.
    He bounced off the now straightened door and fell to the ground. His friend rushed to his side, "Are you alright?"
    He knelt down and placed his friend's head in the folds of his lap, right on his very thin shorts.
    I was about to reach for my cell phone to ring emergency. Damn, I should have recorded this.
    His friend stirred and lifted his arm to pull his friends head down to him and they kissed in the drive-way.
    No, I am NOT making this up.
    For some reason I was almost expecting them to burst into song.
    "There's a place for us,
    A time and place for us...
    Somewhere..." *
    Slowly they picked themselves up off the ground and helped each other into their house. The door slammed behind them.
    A short time later my straight friend turned up. I asked if he knew the next door neighbours.
    He told me he thought they might be gay and that they were accident prone.
    "No shit!" said I.
    "Yes," he said, "they've only been there a week and last Tuesday one of them drove over the rubbish bin. I don't expect them to last the month out."
    "I don't know about that," I said, "They seem quite resourceful and very much in love."
    * Yes I know its West Side Story...again, but it did happen in an Adelaide Western Suburb.
    Edit: Tidying up the writing.
  24. DesDownunder
    So is it New year yet?
    I guess it must be. We have had our usual spate of arrests and murders and other various activities that the local peasants seem to think is necessary for the celebration of the Earth having completed yet another orbit around the sun.
    Some of them don't believe in that though, which makes me think of what it must mean to be so obsessed by a belief that others have to be subjected to it, beyond, in some cases, any semblance of validity.
    Such things were not foremost on my mind however when at 11.52 pm I crawled into bed, several hours ahead of my usual bedtime and looked at the man of my nightmares, I mean dreams, definitely my dreams, who was watching a DVD movie of no great worth except to act as nightmare fodder for someone else.
    "Whatcha doin'?" he asked.
    "Helping you watch the movie." I answered.
    "Oh." he replied. "I can stop it if you want."
    'If I want to what?"
    "It is hot!' he said
    "So it is," I confirmed for him.
    ****
    I believe we were thinking the same thing, that is, we had the same beliefs. At least they seemed similar.
    Some people do not seem to understand how important it is to allow other people to have beliefs that conflict with their own.
    They seem to be obsessed by some primitive neanderthal necessity to want others to think as they do.
    Well that might have been necessary when we lived in tribes or in caves. You know when our ancestors clubbed each other to death out of fear of the differences between one tribe and another; or over claims that cavemen from one cave were better than cavemen from another cave. It was a time when they could not explain things like lightning or wind or rain or fire. The Sun revolved around the Earth which was flat. You could be burned at the stake for saying you believed otherwise.
    Today on this the first day of a new year, actually it is the second because I was busy yesterday, it occurs to me that we no longer need to worry about what others believe, provided each of us does not try to club anyone else into submitting to their beliefs.
    It is not beliefs themselves that cause problems. What creates the problems is when we allow our beliefs to dictate what we do, without recourse to reason, common sense and human compassion.
    In short when my actions are the result of my beliefs, I should make sure that I do no harm to others or their right to believe what they will. I would ask only that they grant me the same courtesy.
    Now that for me, would be civilised.
    ***
    By 12.07 am New years day, the boyfriend and I had confirmed the compatibility of our beliefs by having them in a rather uncivilised way, but very full of human com-passion, for a whole year from 2007 to 2008. It was a great year even though it only lasted fifteen minutes.
    May you all have a splendid 2008 with many happy 15 minutes or longer.

  25. DesDownunder

    Aussie xmas greeting

    By DesDownunder,

    ɹǝpunuʍopsǝp ɯoɹɟ
    sɐɯʇsıɹɥɔ ʎɹɹǝɯ
    You can all thank Trab for finally being able to read what I write without standing on your heads.
    This week the car's water-pump decided to spring a leak.
    The car has proven to be a source of great amusement.
    If you hear a story of an Aussie man who took an axe to his car and chopped it up into environmentally friendly pieces, that would be me.
    Oh and the tail light fell off too.
    I think I'll get the chainsaw out.
    And please checkout Graeme's Aussie Christmas message at http://www.awesomedude.com/adboard/index.php?showtopic=2758

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